


Bad Moon Rising

by moushkas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apocalypse, Community: dc_dystopia, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moushkas/pseuds/moushkas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For dc_dystopia Round Two, reverse bang: For too long Dean Winchester has beat the odds with only his GED and 'give em hell' attitude. Now, his luck has run out. Dean has to learn what real loss actually means and that fighting destiny has consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Moon Rising

  


**Title:** Bad Moon Rising  
 **Artist:** threnodyjones  
 **Author:** moushkas  
 **Fandom/Genre:** Supernatural; angst/romance  
 **Pairing(s):** Dean/Castiel, slashy-gen Sam/Gabriel  
 **Warnings:** Major Character Death, Unprotected Sex, Blow Job, Hand Job, Virgin! Bottom Castiel

**Bad Moon Rising  
moushkas // threnodyjones**

 

Dean’s prayers were always a pleasant tingle down Castiel’s spine. Tingle was possibly an understatement because when Dean called for Castiel, it burned slowly from the base of his gut all the way to the tips of his wings. It caused heat to rise and his eyes to dilate, appendages to swell. Castiel could sum of the entire feeling as ecstasy.

So when Dean called, the angel tried his best to will away the feelings before seeing him. But Castiel would always answer Dean’s prayers. Always.

That evening was no exception. Dean called Castiel and it burned so sweetly through his veins. He brushed out his wings and shifted through space to get back to the Winchesters and Bobby Singer. They were still in Ellsworth’s Cabin and a part of Castiel was worried about that. The other part of him was so relieved to hear the sound of Dean’s voice that he blindly came to them. 

He arrived on a platform facing all three men. Sam and Bobby had flanked Dean’s sides, standing and staring at Castiel as he arrived. They looked like they were on a mission, prepared to do whatever was necessary. But Castiel’s eyes passed over them to Dean who was slumped in a chair. His fingers danced around the edges of a bottle of whiskey, his eyes empty. He wouldn’t look at Castiel, instead he looked at the dress shoes the angel was wearing. That should have been Castiel’s second clue.

“We found a way to track Crowley.” Sam held a book in his awkward hands, face trying to be as gentle as possible. Bobby mentioned stood and moved closer to Castiel, his face grim and distorted with...well, the angel couldn’t identify. But it wasn’t nearly as painful as Dean’s expression. Castiel felt his gut turn cold, his heart stopped pumping for a second and he realized he was frozen in fear.

He swallowed, hoping his fear wasn’t noticeable as he stepped closer to Dean. Bobby and Sam where always third parties in Castiel’s life. His focus alway on his first charge. He stepped towards the man now, hoping for a little comfort as the world felt like it was crashing around him.

“What is it?”

He was close enough to Dean to see that face, to see those pained green eyes and Castiel could tell it was over. He’d lost something right then and it crushed his grace to bits. Bobby lit a match, his face far scarier now that it was lit, “It’s you.”

Castiel found himself in the center of a flaming circle. His wings itched with the feeling of being trapped, his grace tingled when it recognized what was keeping him in the center. He was surrounded in holy oil and the faces of the family he betrayed.

Dean followed Castiel as the angel circled around inside the flames. The blue eyes were wild, the face pale and the angel looked confused. He found Dean’s face again and it was like the world had faded away. It was only him and his charge, separated by fire and lies, “What are you doing?”

Dean stood then, eyes trailing up and down Castiel. The angel was always drawn to those eyes, always lost in the emeralds that revealed a pure and powerful soul. Castiel couldn’t deny that the reason his grace always gravitated to Dean was because of the power resonating just beneath the skin. It wasn’t until the reveal that Dean was an arch angel’s vessel that Castiel understood.

Now here he was, facing that soul from inside bright flames. The man’s soul was sickly weak, curled in on itself as if someone had tortured it. It was how Castiel had first found the Righteous Man, curled up beneath flames and charred bodies. Castiel had thought he’d fixed the man, had brought that spark back. Now he sees he only tortured it more.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to talk.” Dean’s words were heavy with anxiety and they weighed Castiel’s entire being down. He didn’t like this feeling, this pain. It was worse than the sensation of being trapped in a ring of burning holy oil.

Castiel didn’t want to look at Dean, so he tried to find an escape route, “About what? Let me go!”

“About Superman,” Castiel’s heart stopped, his grace shuddered. Who knew that line would give it all away, break months of lies and deceit. Castiel knew, “About kryptonite.” 

“How’d you know what I said?” Bobby growled.

“How long have you been watching us?” Sam seemed the only level headed one. He circled Castiel, eyes focused by hurt. It was a pleasant distraction from Dean’s broken expression.

This was exactly what Castiel had wanted to avoid, the questions. He regretted not listening to his to his inner turmoil more. 

“Do you know who spies on people, Cas? Spies.” Dean sounded hurt. More than hurt, and Castiel was hurting right along with him. How was he going to explain to this man that everything, from the moment he gripped the soul deep in the bowls of hell, was all for him? Dean hadn’t listened before. He wasn’t likely going to listen now.

The questions were firing at him. One after the other, questions Castiel wasn’t prepared to answer. He was flying through thoughts, trying to find an excuse a way to turn this all from betrayal to good intentions. because that was what it had all been, good intentions. He found himself twitching in anxiety. He couldn’t form thoughts with the three faces of disappointment so he found the floor, hoping it had some answers for him.

“You gotta look at me, man,” Dean was on the verge of tears and Castiel could hear it, could feel it in his grace, he just didn’t want to see it. But Castiel did, because Dean asked it of him, “You’ve gotta level with me and tell me whats going on.”

It was worse than Castiel ever thought possible. It was heartbreaking, grace breaking. Castiel could feel the grace within him recoil from the pain of seeing Dean’s face. It wasn’t fair that the human had such power over him.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not working with Crowley.” Dean was choking on the words, hole body stiff with grief, soul retreating in pain. Castiel watched because a look like that stopped all excuses from reaching his mouth. Dean asked him to do something and Castiel would obey. It was a comfortable routine they had. But this time, Castiel wasn’t sure the outcome if he followed through.

Castiel had lost his father, his brothers, this war. He couldn’t lose Dean too. So Castiel said nothing and he looked away.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered.

There it was, the truth. Perhaps Castiel didn’t say it but the catharsis was still present in his aching grace. He’d come out to them, he only needed to sway them now.

“Just let me explain.”

Like usual, Dean didn’t. He spoke right over Castiel’s defense and he sucker-punched the angel with his depressed look, “You in it with Crowley? You’re going after Purgatory together? This whole time!”

“I did it to protect you.” Castiel said but he was vaguely aware of looking down, of looking away. Because at this point, even Castiel was beginning to wonder if that was the truth. He looked away from Dean, away from that face. The more he avoided the man, the more he felt rooted in his defense, “I did it to protect all of you.”

“How?” 

“The souls,” Castiel felt the taste on his mouth when he said the word. It was bitter, salty and gross. He’d felt it the very first time Crowley had proposed the idea but it faded with time, as he fell deeper and deeper into the plans. Now, faced with the consequences of his actions, he foul taste and feeling was back. But it was too late to stop, “With them I can defeat Raphael. I’m still me, I’m still your friend.” He looked at Sam, found the face the easiest to take. Maybe because he was use to Sam accusing him of things, “Sam, I was the one who raised you from perdition.”

The room grew cold and Castiel vaguely wondered if that was not the right thing to say to sway them to his side. The younger Winchester stiffened up, like he usually did when he was preparing for a fight, “Well no offense, but you did a pretty piss poor job of it.” There was a pause, “Wait, did you bring me back soulless on purpose.”

It hurt to be accused like that. To say his fatal error had been purposeful stung his grace, “How can you think that?”

“Well I’m thinking alot of things right now, Cas.”

“Listen, Raphael will kill us all. He’ll turn the world into a grave yard, I had no choice.” 

“No, you had a choice.” Dean seemed defeated. He’d given up on Castiel now and he was not afraid to show it now, “You just chose made the wrong one.”

Castiel felt the rage bubble inside him again. Who was Dean to say he made the wrong choice? Castiel had no options. He could not submit to his brother and he was not strong enough to defeat him. The angel felt himself pull away from Dean, their lightly tethered friendship snapping apart. Castiel could feel the break in his grace, he wondered idly if the man could feel the loss as well. 

“You don’t understand, it’s complicated.”

“No its not and you know it. Why else would you keep this secret unless you knew that it was wrong. When crap like this comes around, we deal with it, like we always have. We don’t make deals with demons.” Castiel could see Dean’s eyes begin to water. The man was fighting back tears, his heart breaking. The angel could see the loss within the man, the way his soul was reaching back for Castiel but hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure the hurt was worth it.

Castiel could agree.

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that.” Castiel felt his grace reach for the man’s soul. Felt the ease of them touching on the ethereal plane once again. This could work, they could work, “Where were you when I needed to hear it.”

“I was there. Where were you?” And there it was. Because Dean was there. Dean was always there and Castiel just didn’t trust it. “Should have come to us for help, Cas.”

“Maybe.” He hated that word. Because, in hindsight, he should have. There was a distant howling, the sound of Crowley coming to retrieve his partner. Castiel knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to take out the three humans so he made his sacrifice. He’d always do it for the Winchesters, “It’s too late now. I can’t turn back.”

“Cas, we can fix this.” Dean shouted, coming closer to the circle. He remained at a distance, knowing it would burn human flesh too.

“Dean it’s not broken.” But it was. Everything was. He was.

He made them escape, made them run because Castiel couldn’t stand seeing them hurt. Even after all this, Castiel’s main concern would always be Dean and the people he loved. He watched each one escape, only Dean looking back and the expression there said it all. Dean wasn’t done with him, wasn’t going to give up on him yet. And Dean was expecting to see Castiel again after tonight.

Castiel was resolute then. He’d convince Dean of his plan one more time, away from the influence of his family. And if it didn’t work, then Castiel would confess his darkest secrets and never see the man again. Either way, Castiel was going to lose something tonight.

\---

Bobby’s house was poorly proofed. He idly wondered if Gabriel had pranked a man a thousand years ago with fake angel wards. Or maybe it was because Bobby never felt the need to use them before, therefore, when he had to, they were not perfect. Maybe Dean had had a hand it creating the wrong ones.

Regardless, Castiel appeared in the living room of Bobby’s old and dusty home, at the feet of Dean who was lying across the worn couch. He’d looked relieved to see Castiel, not the angry, betrayed man that he should be.

“Hello, Dean.”

“How’d you get in here?”

“The angel proofing Bobby used.” Castiel heaved a great sigh. Because this was it, his last chance at redemption, “He got a few things wrong.”

Dean brushed the sleep from his eyes and stood, “It’s sad that we have to use angel proofing at all. Why are you here?”

“I came to explain.” Castiel sighed, stepping closer to the man. He felt at ease the closer he was to his charge, perhaps it was because his grace could wrap tighter around the man when they were close. Either way, Dean stepped closer as well, body relaxing when he did, “I want you to understand.”

“I get it.” Dean sneered. His fingers danced around the edges of his jeans, like he wanted to reach for something, possibly Castiel’s throat, “Blah, blah, blah Raphael.”

“I did this for you, Dean.” For once Castiel wished Dean were like Sam; poetic, observant, thoughtful. But then Castiel wouldn’t love Dean nearly as much if he weren’t the spiteful, selfish and often naive hunter, “I’m doing this because of you.”

“That’s rich, Cas.” Dean rubbed his eyes, body stepping away but soul reaching, clinging to Castiel. It was hard to understand the hunter some times. His body and mind would pull away but his soul would cling so tightly Castiel wondered if the man was secretly in love with him. And if the things between them ever got fixed, then Castiel would ask him.

“You’re the one who taught me freedom and free will.”

Dean turned on him, all the rage and power of the righteous man, “You’re a fricking child, you know that. Just because you have the power to do something doesn’t mean you get to do what you want.”

Castiel glared at him. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to. Why couldn’t Dean see that?

“I’m not-”

“You know,” Dean continued, “Next to Sam and Bobby, you are my family. I would die for you. I know you would die for me.” He stepped in closer to Castiel, for once initiating the uncomfortable invasion of personal space. Castiel didn’t like it, not because he was uncomfortable but the heat of Dean and his words caused the tingling sensation to spark throughout his body, “So when I ask you not to do something. You gotta trust me, Man.”

“Or what?” Castiel felt sick as it came out. He felt worse when he saw Dean’s reaction. They both knew what the unspoken ‘or what’ would be. Neither of them wanted it either.

Dean shifted in his place, hands touching the edges of his jeans again. They stared into each other’s eyes, both seeking something. Dean must have found it. He lunged forward, hands taking hold of Castiel’s face and pulling the angel closer. Their lips and teeth clashed painfully but it was somehow everything Castiel wanted.

Castiel melted against David’s lips, moaning as pleasure and heat swept through him. He reached for Dean, feeling grounded when his fingers wrapped around Dean’s wrist. He tilted his head, a slight shift to the right that opened Castiel up for more of Dean’s passion. Dean groaned, pushing himself closer to Castiel. He moved from Castiel’s face to his hips, pulling the angel so close that their belt buckles tapped together. He squeezed tightly, causing the angel to groan and shiver in his grasp.

Dean smiled, pulling away from Castiel with one final nip. The angel tried to follow but Dean stepped out of his reach. His thumbs traced Castiel’s hip bones, slowly bringing the angel out of his pleasure induced haze. Castiel’s wide blue eyes focused on Dean’s lips first before raising up Dean’s face.

Dean smiled softly, “You give up on Purgatory and I’ll give you more of that.”

Castiel bit his lip, tasting the remnants of Dean. He thought for a long while, his endless stare focusing on something beyond Dean. He nodded once before leaning forward to capture Dean’s lips again. Dean pushed back, splaying his hands across Castiel’s hips to keep him at a safe distance. Castiel gave Dean an odd, pouting look, “Dean.”

“You have to say it and you have to mean it.” Dean frowned, “You have to commit to it. Go tell Crowley to fuck off, then we can have kinky angel sex.”

Castiel nodded, disappearing in a flutter of wings. Dean exhaled deeply. He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes and turned to clear the house of Bobby and Sammy. It was embarrassing enough that he was about to put out for an angel and everyone knew it, the situation would be ten times worse if Bobby and Sam overheard them too. 

“This is a horrible plan,” Bobby groaned as he packed up his bag, “We can’t trust that he’ll follow through, Dean.”

Dean sighed, watching his surrogate father fuss over the suitcase until finally Sam took the luggage and forced him out the door, “I trust him and that should be enough.”

Bobby nodded, taking Dean’s shoulder in a tight, comforting grip before the two retreated to a busted mustang and drove away from the house.

\---

Crowley’s lair was dank and gruesome, filled with foul smelling cages and beasts that screamed and bled everywhere. Castiel didn’t like coming to Crowley’s lair mostly because of the guilt that churned in his stomach. Crowley liked torture, he liked the blood and pain. He often had some new discovery about the way monsters worked after a session with them. However, he never got any closer to unlocking the gates of purgatory and Castiel was going to make sure of it, especially now that he’d made a promise to Dean.

He felt his old self coming back again, facing a stronger enemy with little more than a vow to Dean. He felt his grace flow with pride and duty. He faced Crowley with a puffed chest and all the strength he needed.

“Ah, little Castiel,” Crowley poked at the heart of a djinn. He watched it twitch violently then listened for the scream of its mate somewhere down the hallway of jail cells, “I hope your hearing bearing good news. I’m getting tired of prodding at these beasts.”

Castiel straightened himself in the way Dean taught him. He rolled his shoulders back and raised his chin, “It’s over, Crowley.”

Crowley paused, “I hope that means you got the key.”

“We are not opening the gates of Purgatory.” Castiel growled, “I’m breaking the deal.”

Crowley through down his tools, “No you are not, Castiel.”

The angel stiffened and stepped up to the demon. He loomed over the smaller vessel, smelling the horrible scent of hell and death. He longed for Dean, for his musky scent and larger frame. He made Castiel feel stronger, a feeling the angel needed at this moment as he stared down the King of Hell, “Yes, I am. You aren’t getting those souls. No one is.”

Crowley pushed at Castiel, “How dare you?! You don’t break a deal with the King of Hell. You and I are flying off this cliff together, Louise. So buckle up.”

Castiel used his entire grace, focused it in the single punch her threw against Crowley’s jaw. The demon fell back, hitting the wall with a solid thunk. It created a large hole in the wall and the demon coughed up blood. Castiel gripped his tie tightly, choking the demon, “I breaking the deal, Crowley. I’ll defeat Raphael on my own and I suggest you stay out of the way.”

Castiel pulled back then. He stepped all the way back and watched as Crowley fixed his suit, glaring at Castiel as he did, “You’ll regret this, angel.” Crowley sniffed the air, “You reek of that Winchester. He’ll be the death of you, Castiel.”

“Get out of my sight.” Castiel hissed, watching as the demon snarled one more time and left. Castiel took a moment to revel in his success. One monster was down, he just had Raphael left to face. Castiel felt he could take on the archangel, especially with Dean by his side.

He reveled in his victory before clearing out Crowley’s lair. Once he was clear of the monsters, he rushed back to Bobby’s house, hoping to find Dean still waiting for him. He appeared in the middle of the living room, seeking out Dean. The hunter was not there. Castiel made a full circle around the bottom floor to find it empty. Castiel was on the verge of anger, believing Dean had tricked him.

He stood in the kitchen, trying to calm himself when a pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around him from behind. Dean’s lips caressed the back of his neck, his nose brushing against the hair at the base of his neck, “You did it?”

Castiel nodded, raising his hands to grasp Dean’s hands. They interlaced their fingers and pressed against each other, “He’s probably told Raphael by now.”

Dean smiled, “We’ll be ready for them. Whatever they throw at us.”

Castiel nodded, relaxing in Dean’s arms, “I’m sorry. I wanted to ask for your help but, you gave up so much already. I didn’t want to ask for more.”

Dean sighed, rubbing against Castiel. That was always their weakness. Neither wanted to ask for more out of the other. That had always been their relationship, asking and taking. So when they could finally make their own decisions, neither could come to the other and ask. Even when Castiel needed Dean, needed to ask something he was far to afraid to ask. It made Dean sad, to think they’d gotten to that point. So, he gripped Castiel tighter and asked for one last thing, “Come upstairs with me.”

Castiel smiled softly, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for awhile.”

Dean gripped Castiel’s one hand, dropping the other so he could pull Castiel upstairs. They made it to the guest bedroom, what once had been Dean’s bedroom when he stayed with Bobby, and Dean pulled Castiel’s close to envelop him in a heated kiss. He pulled at Castiel’s overcoat and suit jacket as Dean’s tongue tried to touch every crevice of Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel groaned, fingers reaching out to touch something. Dean chuckled, taking Castiel’s hands and guiding them to Dean’s jacket. He forces Castiel’s fingers to tighten around Dean’s jacket, squeezing to give Castiel a hint. The angel finally wakes up. He slowly takes Dean’s jacket off and dropping it to the ground. He took hold of Dean’s shirt and pulled it off too. By now, Dean had loosened the tie and unbuttoned Castiel’s dress shirt.

The two pulled apart so that Dean could take off his tee shirt and Castiel could remove his own shirt. Dean fingered at the edges of Castiel’s tie, stroking the skin there. He kissed the exposed skin around the tie, biting down along the collar bone and leaving a hickey there. Castiel groaned and leaned his head back to give Dean more skin. 

Dean mouthed along the bone until he reached the center point of the tie. He nibbled on the skin before sinking his teeth in. Castiel gasped, hands flying to Dean’s hair and tugging. Castiel wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull Dean away or bring him closer. He only knew that if felt good and that his dick was swelling between his legs. Dean slowly loosened the tie until it fell off Castiel’s neck, Dean followed the path down Castiel’s torso until he reached his pants.

Dean took hold of the buckle, yanking it opened and pulling it down without any real grace. He found Castiel’s cock, heavy with arousal poking out from the plain white underwear beneath. Dean snicker and kissed the head covered in cloth. Castiel gasped again, “Dean.”

“I’ll make you feel good,” Dean smirked, “as a reward. Take off your underwear.”

Castiel did, fingers fumbling around the spandex edges before he managed to stripe the cloth all the way down. Dean’s fingers danced around Castiel’s slim hip bones, taut ass and lean thighs. Castiel shuddered beneath him, erection weeping now. Dean heaved a heavy, hot sigh against Castiel’s member before swallowing the appendage whole. Castiel cried in pleasure, gripping Dean’s head to him.

Dean bobbed his head slightly, creating a delicious friction that distracted Castiel from Dean’s fingers. Dean poked and prodded around Castiel’s hole, stretching lightly as he sucked on Castiel’s cock. Castiel cried when Dean pressed two fingers up into Castiel.

“Dean.” Castiel cried, body shuddering from the onslaught of pleasure. He pushed back against Dean’s fingers, feeling his body giving in to the stretch and pressure. His own fingers moved from Dean’s hair to his bare shoulders, “Dean, I need more.”

Dean smiled around Castiel cock and pulled off with an obscene pop. He stood, quickly unbuttoning his own pants and stripping himself of his boxers. He led Castiel to the bed, laying him down gently. Castiel reached for Dean, a deep blush across his cheeks and appearance like a small child. Dean smiled, falling into Castiel’s arms and kissing him again.

Castiel’s fingers found Dean’s scar, teasing the raised edges. Dean shuttered under the attention and moved to the place in between Castiel’s legs. He stared down at the angel, surprised to have found himself here after all his years of dreaming.

“I love you, Dean.” Castiel whimpered. He moved his legs to circle Dean’s hips. 

Dean laughed out loud, “I thought I would be saying that first.”

He took his weeping cock in one hand and pressed against Castiel’s hole. He plunged in slow, watching Castiel’s face contort in pleasure. When he was finally seated inside, he smiled and kissed the angel’s sweaty brow, “I love you, too.”

Dean was gentle, watching as Castiel slowly rise to the edge of ecstasy. Dean followed quickly, the rush of blood drowning out Castiel’s cries. Dean focused solely on Castiel’s bright eyes, gaining light the closer he came to the peak. Dean latched on to Castiel’s cock, pumping him in time with Dean’s thrusts. Castiel finally peaked, back arched, hand gripping the mark on Dean’s arm. White light filled Dean’s vision and he wasn’t sure if it was Castiel’s grace or Dean’s own burning completion. 

When Dean came to, he was wrapped in Castiel’s arms, body still shuddering from the orgasm. Castiel had calmed down, his lips were caressing Dean’s forehead while he waited for Dean.

“Wow,” Dean croaked.

“Yes,” Castiel sighed, “Let’s do more tomorrow.”  
Dean smiled and relaxed against Castiel, “Fine but then we hunt down Raphael.”

“Agreed.”

\---

One round turned into three, two in the bed and one in the shower. It seemed like once everything was out in the opened, neither Dean nor Castiel were willing to stop. A day after Castiel’s rebellion, they were in the kitchen and ready for another round. Castiel had his hand down Dean’s pants, learning the finer points of caressing Dean when Crowley appeared in the room.

“Gentlemen,” Crowley hissed, “Well, Dean and the slut if I may be honest.”

Castiel’s hand was out of Dean’s pants and holding his angel blade, “What do you want?”

Crowley held his hands in submission, a snarl across his lips, “I’m just delivering a message, giving you boys one last chance to be heros.”

Dean frowned, “Why would you do that?”

Crowley shrugged as he circled around Bobby’s kitchen. He frowned at the empty liquor bottled before looking up at the boys again, “We were brothers in arms once. We saved the world together. Maybe I’m nostalgic.”

Castiel glared, “What is your message?”

Crowley poked an empty whiskey bottle and looked back at the angel, “Raphael wants the keys. You’re boyfriend has them.” There was a moment of pause, heavy with the impending anxiety. War was coming to them sooner than they were ready for it. Crowley turned from them, chuckling, “Oh, you have until Noon or your baby brother and Bobby meet their makers.” Crowley shifted as if he was going to leave and then turned back to the boys, “Oh, and he only wants you two. No armies of heaven, just God’s little misfit soldiers.”

With that the King of the Crossroads disappeared. The two sat in the kitchen, frozen in shock. Castiel turned to Dean, “Do you still have the rings?”

“Three of them.” Dean sighed, “Why does he want them?”

“Raphael is going to try an unlock Lucifer’s cage. He’ll make that the final battle ground.” Castiel sighed heavily, the weight of the universe back on his shoulders. Dean took the angel in his arms.

“We’ll do this together.” Castiel nodded against Dean. The two stayed there, spending the last few tranquil minutes together. Dean kissed the back of Castiel’s neck and the two got their things together to find Raphael.

\---

Stull Hill was an old, mostly abandoned cemetery in the bordering neighborhood of Lawrence, Kansas. There wasn’t much to be considered remarkable in the tiny, deserted place. The gates were worn and rusted, most of the grave markers had been weathered down. The grass had long sense died and become nothing more than brown patches along the earth. The cemetery was an eery extension of the otherwise wholesome and suburban Kansas town.

Only Dean knew how terrifying the place was.  
Being here again, remembering what they had fought against barely a year ago, Dean felt the desolation well up in him again. But this time, Castiel’s hand was wrapped tightly around his own and the two were standing beside each other, not facing the creator of all demons wearing his brother’s face but Castiel’s wayward brother. Dean had to remind himself that Raphael was just an archangel and if God had wanted the apocalypse he wouldn’t have brought back Castiel. They wouldn’t have been able to stop the apocalypse the first time.

Again Dean was standing in place, facing creatures far more powerful than him and believing, with everything he had, that this was the right decision.

Raphael stood aways down the hill, approaching Castiel and Dean slowly. The archangel was wearing the female vessel, serious and dark in her business suit. She eyed Castiel with dark eyes and an anger that was palpable. Black clouds rolled in above her, expressing the anger that was the angel beneath the human skin. 

Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s hand, “Where is Sam and Bobby, Raphael?”

The archangel laughed, “Where are my rings, Castiel?”

Castiel glared at his brother-angel before digging into his pockets and retrieving the three rings Dean had given to him earlier. He showed them to the angel, “Now is Sam and Bobby?”

Crowley appeared with the two men. They were tied at the wrists and chains around their necks. Dean took a step to towards them, noticing Bobby’s bloody nose and Sam’s black eye. Raphael chuckled and stepped towards them, “Now, shall we fight Castiel?”

Castiel turned to Dean, squeezing his hand tightly. He kissed Dean chastely, a burning tickle across each other’s lips, “I will win.”

Dean ignored the cold feeling in his gut and dropped Castiel’s hand. Castiel charged at Raphael, holding the blade high to strike at the archangel. Raphael blocked, the sound of lightning roaring as their weapons hit each other. Castiel turned around, using the momentum to cut across Raphael’s neck. He missed, mostly, catching the upper forearm of the archangel. Raphael cried and stepped back.

Dean took the opportunity to confront Crowley. The King of Hell smiled and snapped his finger, releasing both Sam and Bobby. They stepped away from Crowley with confused faces. Sam rubbed his wrist, “What are you-?”

Crowley shrugged, “So I decided I’ll just pick the winning side, yeah?”

Dean gave the demon a hard glare and gripped his gun tightly. Crowley rolled his eyes and disappeared. With Sam and Bobby free, Dean turned to see Castiel struggling against Raphael. Castiel was grunting loudly as he tried to shove the sword into Raphael. Dean stepped forward to help him, to give him a little bit of courage but Sam held him back. 

Dean watched in horror as Raphael held his sword high. Castiel tried to swing low and stumbled when Raphael moved out of the way. Raphael’s fingers gripped Castiel tightly and shoved the angel sword through Castiel’s chest. Dean screamed, pulling out of Sam’s grasp and running to the angel.

“Cas!” Dean cried.

The angel stumbled back, eyes finding Dean as bright light slowly seeped out of his chest, right where his heart was. Castiel’s eyes became nothing more than beams of light as he fell into Dean’s arms. Dean fell to the ground, half underneath Castiel, arms wrapped around the vibrating body.

“Dean,” He moaned. Raphael was laughing above him, the storm clouds were growing thick and the ground was beginning to shake. Dean took Castiel in his arms, holding the angel tight, “Dean, I have to tell you...”

“Don’t,” Dean cried, “Don’t. You’re going to be okay. God is going to come rescue you and you’re going to be fine.”

Castiel’s hands snuck up under Dean’s shirt, sliding all the way to wear the mark was. Castiel sighed when his hand found the imprint, “I love you, Dean. I hope to see you in heaven.”

There was a bright, burning light, the sound of wind chimes in a hurricane and Dean had to close his eyes for the rest. When he opened them, Castiel’s body was lying against the grass, the impressing of burnt wings were singed into Dean’s jeans and the ground below. The air smelled like burning feathers.

And Dean cried.

“Dean!” Sam shouted from somewhere in the distance. The ground was shaking beneath them. The vessel, Jimmy’s blood was oozing across the ground, creating an eerily similar design to the one in the church. 

Raphael cried in joy, “I’ve won! Father I have won!”

The ground cracked in the space between Dean and Sam and Bobby. Bobby held Sam back from jumping over the wall of smoke, Dean stayed close to Castiel, gripping the body tightly. Above the roar of nature and Raphael, Dean could hear the crunch of grass coming closer.

The smoke began to form a shape, a torso, arms that were stretched to the sky, a face. Sam gasped when the form, now with grand black wings that stretched across the cemetery, became a familiar face. Gabriel stood in the circle of clouds, arms and face raised towards heaven. He looked calm but not tranquil, more like hypnotized. He hadn’t had the same cocky expression as the last time Sam had seen him.

“Gabriel!” Sam called as Bobby pulled him further away from the angel. Sam called again, “Gabriel, can you hear me?!”

It was hard to tell if the angel could or could not. He arms were still raised high, his wings still stretched wide to cover the ground in an eery darkness. But his eyes, bright beams of light, were turned to Sam. Sam froze in place, seeking any recognition in their former ally.

“Sam,” Bobby shouted over the sudden roar of wind, “We have to go find Dean.”

Sam shouted for Gabriel once more but the angel only stared down at him. Gabriel’s mouth opened wide and there was silence for a beat. Sam turned to Bobby, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s not the same angel,” Bobby was still shouting and Sam had to wonder why the sudden chaos around him was so quiet. Lightning was striking, wind was blowing, and in the distance, Lawrence was lit up in a blaze of fire. But Sam only heard his own heartbeat and Bobby’s voice, “And we have to get out of here.”

There was a low billowing from the form of Gabriel, something that shook the sky. Sam numbly realized that Gabriel, the Messenger of God, was calling forth the apocalypse. Whatever was left of the tricky, snarky, lovable arch angel had died that day in the hotel. This was a projection. Something that God had willed from beyond the grave to herald the end of days.

Sam felt lost, frozen in his place once realization struck him. This was really the end.

“Sam?” Bobby was still tugging at Sam’s hand, “Sam we have to go.”

Sam did not leave. He stared up at the form of Gabriel and began to shout, “You were always important to me.”

He got no reaction.

From beyond the clouded form of Gabriel, Dean was hovering over Castiel, wallowing in his depression. He was gripping the empty vessel, hoping for Castiel’s return. He gripped the body tightly, willing for the blue eyes to open, for God to come down and resurrect Castiel, to destroy Raphael and make life perfect again.

“It’s not fair.” Dean muttered, “Just when-” Dean choked a little on the confession, “It’s not fair.”

“Life is not fair,” A grim, dark voice called from just beyond Castiel’s body. When Dean looked up, he found Death glaring down at him. The skeletal-like man was standing proud, suit primped and free of dust. He leaned over a single black cane, hair billowing in the wind Dean couldn’t hear. 

Dean could faintly hear Sam shouting to the clouds above but Dean could hardly lift his head to face Death, let alone concentrate on his brother. Grief weighed everything down, making even breathing the most difficult thing in the world. Dean was sure he couldn’t move on after this.

Death exhaled slowly, starring down at Dean with disdain and just a little bit of pity, “Life is cruel and evil, filled with disappointment and failure and then you die. It’s taken you long enough to come to that realization, Dean. You’ve spent all your life running from me and fate. You need to learn that its inescapable. If you had just said ‘yes’ the first time, followed the plan we had, you could be in heaven with your angel. You could have been happy.”

Dean, through the tears and pain, snarled at Death, “So this is it? I had Castiel and now he’s dead. The world is slowly crumbling around us? I’m just suppose to accept it?”

Death heaved a great sigh and raised his hand to hover above Dean. His thin fingers were spread wide above Dean’s head, not touching but Dean could still feel their presence. Death whispered above him, above the sounds of the apocalypse, above the sound of Dean’s breaking heart. It was the single sound the broke any of Dean’s remaining will, “Yes.”

_Hope you have got your things together  
Hope you are quite prepared to die_

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> To threnodyjones on livejournal for the wonderful artwork and the fantastic prompt. This was a pinch hit and unbeta'd but I hope you enjoyed it anyways. Everything about this was painful and beautiful, what I love the most about the SPN Dean/Castiel Fandom.


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